


watch the walls instead

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Camboy Harry, M/M, No explicit sex though sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry can't pay the rent. Working in porn might well be the solution to his problem. But his friend and flatmate, Louis, refuses to let him go it alone (or with anybody else, for that matter).</p>
            </blockquote>





	watch the walls instead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sex_spenders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sex_spenders/gifts).



> For prompt #1: Harry and Louis are forced to be porn stars to pay the rent.

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**extempore**

ɪkˈstɛmp(ə)ri,ɛk-/

_adjective & adverb_

adjective: **extempore** ; adverb: **extempore**

on the spur of the moment; without premeditation or preparation; offhand:

synonyms: impromptu, spontaneous, unscripted, ad lib;

origin: mid-16th century, from Latin _ex tempore_ “on the spur of the moment” (literally “out of the time”)

 

* * *

 

It’s a sluggish Sunday afternoon. Baccano, the most popular student pub in the neighbourhood, is crowded but its patrons are atypically subdued.

“What a shit weekend of results,” Louis says, and his mates nod in commiseration. “Good thing I forgot to place my bets this week. Lucky, eh?”

“Terrible performance. Playing the 3-5-2 setup again-- what on earth was Van Gaal thinking?!” Aiden shakes his head in disgust. “The man’s barking mad! Might as well bring back Moyes, at this rate.”

“Easy there, I wouldn’t go quite _that_ far,” Louis replies. “The ref really had it out for us today-- so many bad calls. And the thing is, LVG doesn’t exactly have a lot of defensive options at the mo, yeah? The injury crisis is basically forcing him to play three centre backs. Not an ideal situation all round, really.”

“Maybe the club needs better physios,” says Calvin. “You’re graduating soon. Can’t you put that sports therapy degree of yours to good use and, I dunno, heal the entire United squad or something?”

If only. Louis snorts. “Wish it were that easy, mate.”

“Things will turn around. We will qualify for CL, I’m sure of it.” Aiden predicts, the evergreen optimist of the group. “By the way, how are you getting on with the search for a new place?”

“Wait, you’re flat hunting? What happened with your current one?” asks Calvin.

“Found out last week our landlord’s not renewing the lease, so we’re all moving at the start of next month. Haz and Nialler are checking out a couple of flats today. They’re supposed to be texting me their verdicts right about now, actually,” Louis replies. Right on cue, his phone buzzes.

 _From: Niall  
_ _L, this is it, this is the one!!! H is in heaven haha! get your lazy ass here now_

“Well, well, well. Looks like we have a winner,” Louis says. “Apparently it’s very promising.“

 _From: Harry  
_ _Louis! Please come see it now, pretty please? Want to be able to snap it up right away! x_

He grins, and sends back:

_fine, be there soon. honestly, the sacrifices I make for you Harold. this better be worth the hype!!! or else!_

Mere seconds later, he gets a response.

 _From Harry:  
_ _:D_

Looking up, he sees that his friends are nudging each other, and eyeing him with indulgent smirks. “What?”

“Nothing. Probably nothing.” Calvin says, as he and Aiden exchange a look.

What a pair of weirdos they are. Louis checks the time again, then starts packing up his gear.

“Oi! You’re off, then? Good luck, mate,” says Aiden.

“Cheers, lads. See you next week.”

 

* * *

 

When Louis arrives at the texted address, he is greeted by Harry and Niall, and a burly man who looks to be in his late thirties named Paul, who introduces himself as the property manager.

The prospective new accommodation is indeed pretty great: sunny, decent sized rooms, a nice kitchen, and a fantastic location only a few bus stops from town.

Harry loves it. That’s immediately obvious. Only a blindfolded person would miss the wistful longing in those green eyes. Quickly, Louis asks about the price.

“Five hundred a week, including basic utilities. Internet and landline not included-- you’ll have to sort that out for yourself. ”

Niall turns to Louis. “Reckon we can swing it, Tommo?”

It’s quite a bit more than they’re paying at their place right now, but this flat is also an upgrade. Louis hesitates. Harry’s looking at him pleadingly now, too. “Yeah. I think so,” Louis says finally.

“Wonderful! Now, I’ll require references from your previous landlords,” says Paul. “Rent is weekly and will need to be paid in advance, plus there’s an upfront damage deposit of one month’s rent when you move in. Remember, no pets or smoking indoors...” Paul prattles on for a bit, while Harry and Niall are already exchanging celebratory glances and a discreet high-five.

 

* * *

 

Louis receives the text on Tuesday morning.

 _From: Paul  
_ _Congratulations! Everything seems to be in order._

Fuck yes! They've got the lease. Louis calls him during his morning tea break to thank him and confirm the details of the arrangement. Harry and Niall bombard him with masses of celebratory emojis and smiley faces, while Aiden and Calvin also send their congratulations.

After lunch, Louis’s boss locks up the shop and sends everyone home early, thanks to a hazmat emergency across the road. Louis heads home in high spirits; he hasn’t had a free weekday afternoon to muck around in ages.

The flat is quiet when he gets back. He’s already feeling bored, but then he spots Harry’s backpack by the entryway and grins. Brilliant. At least Louis will have some company.

Harry’s door is slightly ajar. Louis’s knock nudges it fully open. “Hey, have you seen the new FIFA lying around--?” Louis asks absent-mindedly, and then he freezes mid-sentence.

At first glance, Harry appears to be in some sort of weird, uncomfortably twisty yoga pose on the bed-- curled into a ball, legs slightly bent and stretched so that his ankles are tucked behind his head.

He’s also completely naked. That in itself is nothing unusual for Harry, who has a habit of wandering around starkers like he was born in a nudist colony. But. There is a _vibrating purple dildo_ in his ass.

Louis takes the scene in, numbly, for about six milliseconds before Harry jerks his head up and their eyes collide.

“S-sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Louis stammers softly.

Harry moans in frustration. “Fuck. Don’t just stand there. God, Lou.” His cheeks are flushed and ruddy, and the normally tousled curls are damply matted to his forehead. “Make yourself useful or leave.”

“You want me to...give you a hand?” Louis asks. He can’t believe his ears.

Harry closes his eyes again. “My phone’s on the dresser.”

Oh. Right, of course. Louis grabs the phone and holds it out to Harry awkwardly. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone. Who’s the lucky guy you’re sexting?”

“Huh? I‘m not seeing anyone.” Harry waves away Louis’s outstretched hand. “You can start filming now.”

“What the fuck, Harold!”

“Well, I can’t do it myself.” Harry grimaces. He fiddles with the vibrator settings and Louis averts his gaze. “The Neon Luv Touch vibe does not live up to its promises. Not enough power, how do they expect anybody to get off hands free? Gonna write a strongly worded product review about this,” mumbles Harry.

Has Harry been possessed by a demonic incubus spirit? Bodysnatched by aliens? Louis honestly does not understand _anything at all_ about this situation, and he gives up trying to.

“Get on with it, please,” says Harry. “Is it on yet?”

He’s actually serious about it, Louis realises. Again, fuck the ever-loving fuck?

“Uhhh, no. No.” Louis places the phone on the bed gingerly and backs away. Right before fleeing, he tells Harry sternly: “We’re deffo going to have words about this later, just you wait…”

 

When Harry finally emerges from his room a whopping two hours later, Louis is ready and lying in wait to accost him.

Louis opens his interrogation. “What the fuck was all that about, earlier?”

He’s puzzled over it to the point of second- and third-guessing himself, and he still has no clue. If it had been anyone else, Louis would wonder if Harry was putting the moves on him, so to speak, in an extremely roundabout and convoluted fashion.

But this is Harry, and Harry doesn’t do underhanded. (And Harry is his friend, and he’s never shown an inkling of sexual interest in Louis in the two years they’ve known each other.)

“Thought I would have the flat to myself for the whole afternoon, sorry.” Harry doesn’t look all that apologetic, though.

“What is wrong with you? You can’t just ask your flatmate to film-- why would you-- who even does that--” Louis sputters. He tries again. “There’s this concept called personal boundaries that you clearly need to do some revision on.”

“Sorry, I--” Harry clears his throat. “I was desperate? I, um, needed to see how it looked. For reasons.”

“Kinky reasons?” Internally, Louis lectures himself to not think about Harry’s kinks. That way only lies madness.

“Practice reasons.” Seeing Louis’s blank stare, Harry clarifies. “I need to improve my technique for the camera.”

“Holy fuck. You’re doing porn?” Louis jabs Harry’s chest accusingly and watches him closely for any giveaways.

“No, I’m not,” Harry replies, far too quickly. Louis thinks his denial is a bit of a weak effort. Harry is not a good (or even passable) liar, and everyone knows it.

“Oh my god. You are.” Louis’s eyes widen in horror, and Harry looks away.

“Jesus Christ! Did you take up doing coke when I wasn’t looking or something?” Louis demands.

“Of course not!” Harry protests, sounding mortally offended.

“Well, there’s clearly some sort of money trouble you’ve been keeping mum, if you’ve resorted to doing porn,” he retorts. “Really, Styles.”

“It’s not porn,” mumbles Harry. He’s avoiding eye contact like the plague now. Shit. It means something is definitely up. Louis’s lived with him long enough to know that. “And I’m not on drugs, okay? I just...need the money.”

“What for?” Louis presses. He’s not going to let it go.

“To cover my share of the upcoming rent and deposit.” This makes absolutely no sense to Louis. Harry sees his obvious confusion and shifts uncomfortably. “Um, well, I’ve been working shorter shifts recently? ‘Cos the bakery hasn’t been doing too well. So like, all of us staff got together and agreed to reduce our hours, so that no one has to be let go. So...yeah.”

“How about the saner option of asking your family for help? First port of call, surely?”

Harry immediately shakes his head. “No. No. Nuh uh.”

“Oh, come on! I get that a man needs his pride, but this’ll only be a one-time thing, innit?”

“Even if I could… Mum and Robin are on their extended trip around the globe-- I don’t wanna bother them. And Gem’s got her own stuff to worry about. So, yeah.” Harry takes a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to find another job-- I’m still looking right now. But it’s really hard to find something that will pay enough _and_ fit around my uni timetable. I can’t afford to fuck up my studies before internship applications.”

“Gonna be difficult to get hired at a Big 4 firm when they find out you do porn,” Louis points out. “Employers do pretty thorough background checks these days, you know. If there’s something incriminating about you on the Internet, they’ll find it.”

“It’s not really porn, though,” says Harry. “Well, no-- actually it is, but it seems really safe? It’s live stream cam work. I can do it solo, so there’s no need to do stuff with any skeevy people or anything. And apparently the site is super private. It’s not even searchable on Google! I checked.”

Louis raises his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. “And yet you found out about it.”

“I heard about it from Ed,” Harry confesses. “He knows someone who’s tried it and apparently it’s the real deal.”

“Well, well, well. Looks like I’ll be having some words with Sheeran, hmm?” Louis muses.

“Don’t blame Ed. Look, you can check over everything if it’ll give you peace of mind.”

And of course Louis does.

 

* * *

 

Turns out XXXtempore (which is apparently pronounced “triple ex temporay”; Louis thinks porn sites have no business being utterly pretentious, but anyway) is “a premium sex-cam community for gay men, with membership by selective referral”.

Louis has no patience for PR copy and marketing-speak. “Right. So it’s invite-only and restricted to paying clients, no freebies or trial periods. Mmmm.” He quickly skims through the site’s comprehensive _Work For Us_ FAQ section. “It says here the site takes a 33% cut from your cam revenue. That sounds really high.”

“Might be worth it for the extra security,” says Harry. “They seem big on maintaining their ‘exclusive content’ from the cam artists, and they crack down really hard on unauthorised recording and redistribution of the cam footage. Hopefully that’ll limit any videos or screenshots of me being splashed around online. ”

“That’s not foolproof. It’s still a massive fucking risk,” Louis argues. “They claim that membership is selective, but we only have their word for it. We’re broke students, it’s not like we could verify that for ourselves.”

“Mmm.”

He’s obviously not getting through to Harry. Desperately, he implores, “Haz, it’s too risky. I cannot believe you’re seriously considering this. People you meet in real life might be members of this site, and they could recognise you! It’s career suicide.”

Harry refuses to be swayed, however. “I know the risks, and I’ve weighed up the pros and cons. I’m doing this,” he says firmly, shouldering his way back in front of the computer.

“You might not be what they’re looking for. Maybe you’ll fail the cam artist application.” Or so Louis hopes. He _really_ hopes.

Harry’s fingers are already flying across the keyboard. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

 

* * *

 

Harry gets accepted, of course. The talent recruiter at XXXtempore is impressed with the short clip he uploaded as his audition video, and the quick chat over Skype is more of a formality than an actual job interview.

He receives a Welcome to XXXtempore! email the next morning, complete with a downloadable orientation pack. There’s a whole bunch of PDF attachments and everything. Training manuals, Louis supposes.

 _Fuck fuck fuck_ is Louis’s mantra for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

“I made fifty quid today, from...you know,” Harry tells him a couple of days later, during breakfast. He flips to the crossword page of the paper like it’s no big deal. Like he hasn’t spent the past two days shut up in his room doing only god knows what (Louis can make an educated guess) and only coming out to go to class or work at the bakery.

Quite predictably, Louis chokes on his Coco Pops and snorts milk everywhere. He coughs and then sputters, “What is wrong with you?”

“Just keeping you updated,” Harry shrugs as he helpfully mops up the mess with a dish towel.

“Well, I didn’t need to know that!” Louis says crossly. He gets up to grab more milk from the fridge. “I don’t want to know any of it.”

 

His resolve to remain blissfully ignorant about matters that aren’t his business lasts al the way through to lunchtime. Louis reminds himself every now and then that it’s not his place to pry.

But then he finds the edible lube in the fridge. It’s like fate is nudging him to poke his nose in. Maybe this time Haz will _finally_ listen to some sense--

“Tell me,” Louis demands. “How d’ya know they’ll even pay up? Your dosh might never see the light of day-- I was reading up on their payment guidelines and those shady fuckers stuck a thing into the fine print about only paying out once you’ve earned five hundred pounds--”

“I got paid,” says Harry, deflating the wind from Louis’s sails of righteousness. “The transfer came through yesterday.”

“Eh? It’s been less than a week! You’re honestly telling me you’ve made half a grand already?” Louis isn’t buying it. “You’re having me on. No fucking way.”

“Yes, fucking way.” Harry flashes a half smile, half smirk that perfectly showcases his left dimple. He looks at Louis, challenging, “Seems like people enjoy watching me get off, for some strange reason.”

“No offense mate, but I don’t believe that anybody’s paying that much just to watch _you_ wank. What kind of fucked up shit are you _actually_ doing?”

“Heyyy.” Harry’s eyebrows pinch. “Vanilla can be sexy. And there’s nothing inherently shameful about doing porn, you know? Bit hypocritical of you to slag off when you happen to be a consumer of it yourself, like.”

“You can spare me the whole ‘porn is art and I’m providing a valuable service’ lecture, thanks.” Louis sighs, then he admits, “I’m just worried about you, is all. I’m the wise and worldly one in this household, right? So it’s kind of my job to look out for you and Niall.”

Harry’s face softens. “I am being safe, Lou. Promise.”

Louis says, “Okay, let’s skip to the details. Give me the nitty gritty. What do you actually _do_?”

“It’s not easy to explain.” Harry bites his lip. “Um, you could, like, maybe...observe?”

Louis assents, and they head for Harry’s room.

On the way they pass by Niall’s closed door and Louis raises an eyebrow at the muffled heavy metal guitar scales. Still at it, then. Niall had recently gone from Jimi Hendrix to this...music that didn’t sound at all like music, in Louis’s opinion.

“He’s our friend and we need to be supportive,” Harry reminds him sternly. “It’s not that bad. Well, it’ll make him a more well-rounded musician?”

Inside Harry’s room, Louis immediately notices a couple of different additions to the usual setup.

Louis points to the external webcam mounted on the wall by the bed. “Hey, this is pretty nifty.”

“It was bloody expensive,” grumbles Harry. “But it’s a tool of the trade and they recommended I get it, so. A necessary investment, I s’pose.”

“Sounds like you’re just killing time until someone hits you up for a private chat.”

“Well, yeah. But sometimes people donate anyway.”

Harry brings forth the XXXtempore tab in his browser and clicks on his dashboard.

“Okay, so this is how it works…”

 

* * *

 

You are viewing: http://www.xxxtempore.porn/MickyGreen

XXXtempore: Micky Green’s channel

112,057 views

Monthly rank: #20

 

About Me:

I’m an exhibitionist specialising in self pleasure.

PM me to set up a private stream/chat.

xx,

Micky

 

* * *

  

“...okay, and here’s my profile. That’s me,” Harry says helpfully.

“No shit.” Louis examines the image thumbnails under the sidebar. “What are those?”

There’s a small gallery of pictures of Harry, looking fit and horny, that provide just enough to tantalise. No outright dick pics, however. Louis doesn’t realise that he’s ogling avidly, until Harry clears his throat and asks if he’s quite finished.

“Yeah, sorry.” Louis isn’t, though. Not really.

Harry clicks to his (well, Micky Green’s) PM inbox to reply to some messages. One of the subject headlines catches Louis’s eye--

 

> **5K FOR CUSTOM REQUEST?!**

 

“Holy fuck, is that for real?” How rich are these tossers who can afford to splash this kind of cash? To Louis, five grand sounds like seriously lucrative offer, even if it probably is for some hardcore kinky ass shit. He shakes his head in amazement.

It gets a mere one-shouldered shrug from Harry. “Probably? I’ve got a couple of these offers before, but they always turn out to be asking for non-solo stuff so I can’t take them up on it.”

“Non-solo stuff,” Louis repeats slowly. His brain is sluggishly picturing what that non-solo stuff would entail: Harry fucking other people, people who aren’t Louis…

It’s not a pleasant thought.

“‘Cos I don’t have a partner for this. And it’s not as if I can just pick up some rando from the club who’d agree to fuck on a livestream cam channel for money.”

Louis nods emphatically. “Nah, I get it. You can’t trust just anybody.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “‘Specially not strangers.”

They look at each other.

“What--”

“So--”

A sudden silence falls as they both pause mid-sentence. Eventually, Harry says, “You first.”

“Well, um. I’m not a stranger.” Louis can’t believe what he’s saying. This is a mad idea. Harry would never go for it--

“No, you definitely aren’t,” Harry murmurs, assessing him contemplatively. His voice drops a whole octave lower as he intones, “Are you offering.” It doesn’t sound like a question.

Oh, fuck it.

Louis tells him, “You have ten seconds before I come to my senses, Harold.” Before he chickens out, more like.

Louis barely has a chance to blink before Harry is kissing him for dear life, and shoving him onto the bed, and straddling him all the way to heaven. The laptop falls to the floor with a loud thud, but who the fuck cares. Oh, wait--

“Don’t we need that to record, ah, or do a broadcast--?” Louis asks breathlessly, stilling Harry with a grip on his hips.

“Later,” Harry moans. “Right now we’re having, ohhh, a practice session.” He moves to recapture Louis’s lips.

Louis is in favour of lots and lots of practice sessions.

“You’re full of good ideas today,” Louis says admiringly. That’s not all he wants Harry to be full of in the very near future, and Louis tells him so.

He shares Harry’s expression of physical pain when they realise that the lube is still in the fridge, all the way in the kitchen.

“I don’t want to move,” Harry whispers, like he can’t bear to be away from touching distance.

Neither does Louis.

It’s looking to be a stalemate, until Louis hits upon a possible solution. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Even if Niall is going to kill them. Fair is fair, though-- they’ve been putting up with his guitar metal phase for the past month.

Louis scrambles for his phone and begins to compose a text. _Nialler, I'm calling in my favour from last summer. Be a mate...?_

 

* * *

 

(After:)

 

“We should talk about this. Like, properly,” Harry says, voice rumbling through his chest.

“Afterglow, Styles,” Louis almost whines.

“This is important. You were really against me doing camwork, and now you’re ready to come do it with me? I dunno if that’s a good idea.”

Louis pauses in his nuzzling against Harry’s shoulder. “Are you-- did you just change your mind?”

“No! No, but you should get a chance to change yours.” Harry looks at him, earnest. “I feel like I’m pressuring you. Camwork’s not something you were ever keen on. You don’t have to, you know. I can keep doing the solo stuff.”

“I thought I was supposed to help you practise?”

“Yeah, but.” Harry takes a deep breath. “I want more than just practice sessions.”

Louis asks, “Do you want to do this for real?”

“For real.” Harry nods.

“Yeah, all right.” Louis reaches out and kisses him. He reflects for a minute, then says, “I’ll think about the cam offer, it’s a big decision. And we’re moving soon. So for the mo, let’s just sleep on it, yeah?”

 

* * *

 

(Three weeks later: )

 

You are viewing: http://www.xxxtempore.porn/MickyGreen

 

XXXtempore: Micky Green’s channel

240,388 views

Monthly rank: #7

 

About Me:

THIS IS NOW A COLLABORATIVE CHANNEL!

So as you probably know, up until now I've exclusively specialised doing solo play. However, I will soon be introducing my partner in crime Frank Danger!…Do tune in at 14:00 GMT to catch our first non-solo stream :)

As always, feel free to PM us to arrange for a private chat/stream. Thank you all for your continued support!

xx,

Micky and Frank

 

* * *

 

 _Livestream chat window (showing most recent comments first)_  


**regularclient** 9 seconds ago  
give us a show luv, we been waiting for this!

 **bodeeboop** 15 seconds ago  
wait so is this frank ur boyfriend or what

 **phUN** 39 seconds ago  
I see you’ve got a new friend, Micky. Nice to meet you, Frank! Are you guys gonna fuck? Please say yes.

 **bodeeboop** 44 seconds ago  
whose da other twink? dayum hes HOT

 **regularclient** 2 minutes ago  
first!

 

“What do you think?” Harry asks quietly. It’s not too late to back out now (well, it sort of is, but anyway), if Louis's not into this--

“You heard them, luv.” Louis winks at the webcam. “Don’t keep me waiting, Mick. Let’s get this show on the road.”

 


End file.
